


First Few Steps

by gotfanfiction



Series: Monsters and Witchers [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Baby Witchers, Eskel is magic, Extra Monstery Geralt, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Lambert and Vesemir aren't in here much, M/M, Soft Eskel (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction
Summary: Everyone was growing and changing but none so much as Geralt.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Series: Monsters and Witchers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995835
Comments: 16
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this while I was in a psych hospital, for my friends :D

Everyone involved in the process would be lying if they said they knew what would happen when Geralt was subjected to further Trials. And at first, they were just...pleased the boy had lived through the first round, and the second, and the third. Geralt was slightly less pleased, was, as a matter of fact, in a great deal of pain and miserable with it. 

He couldn’t have told you how, or even  _ why, _ but he knew something was going to happen. He whispered these fears to Eskel, late at night, snuck into the other boy’s bed like always. Eskel just soothed them away as best he could, how he always did, but still. Geralt would run his tongue over his teeth, so,  _ so, _ sharp, would shiver around the pain in his joints, in his  _ bones, _ and  _ know. _

It wasn’t over for him. Not yet.

*--*

Eskel was the first to notice, the two boys stuck together like burrs, that Geralt was...transforming still. He had to explain, under the disapproving eyes of the older Witchers and the mages that Geralt would writhe and moan in the night, that it had only been a few months since the Trials and he was already taller and broader than Eskel, who had always been the larger of the two.

Geralt’s teeth were bigger, sharper,his fingernails thickening and developing a curve. There were two hard little bumps forming along his now snowy hairline. Eskel left the room as the adults whispered furiously to each other.

Geralt was waiting for him, eyes wide and worried, shoulders hunched. Eskel pulled him away, back to  _ their _ bed, because Geralt never spent much time in his own, and made sure to hold Geralt as tight as he could, pressing kisses to whatever part of him he could reach. 

They led him away the next day.

*--*

Eskel and the other boys still trained with Geralt but they rarely ate together, and never slept in the same room. Everyone was growing and changing but none so much as Geralt, who had horns, actual horns, who towered over everyone, who had grown teeth that could snap someone’s arm right off, who was as monstrous as people seemed to think Witchers should be.

No matter what he did, Eskel could never manage to sneak around the wards keeping him out of Geralt’s room. They’d probably set them up specifically  _ for _ him, and the staircase was impossible to get to. Vesemir would  _ look _ at him every meal time, Eskel dizzy from trying to force his way past the barrier, and assign him more training each time.

All that really did was give Eskel yet another edge on the other young men, the ones that had survived this long anyways. Lambert was the only one who he could see having even a chance at catching up to him, and was mostly due to the boy’s outrageous levels of spite, as far as he could tell.

Speaking of spite, Eskel was feeling more than a bit of that himself, especially because of the way Geralt refused to look or speak to him. He barely spoke to any of them, but he only turned away from Eskel. He hated it. He  _ hated _ it so much, and it made him so angry because- they’d  _ promised. _

*--*

Eskel was tired, his fingers were sluggishly bleeding, and he’d lost both of his shoes, but he was up here, on Geralt’s windowsill, trying to slow his breathing. He closed his eyes, focused on the wind on his face, idly thinking,  _ I’m not here, not here, can’t notice me, I’m not here, _ a technique he hadn’t used in years, not since he’d been caught using it to sneak extra food from the kitchens when he was younger.

It had never stopped working, he had just stopped using it. He was willing to risk his hide for this, however. It was so strange, to be up so high, someplace so quiet. He could still  _ hear _ everyone, of course but between the wind and his lowly humming magic it felt...distant. Almost peaceful. 

It was only thanks to rigorous training that he didn’t flinch or startle when the door to the room he was lurking outside of slid open and slammed quickly shut, snapping him out of his mild meditative state. He could hear Geralt moving around, throwing things about carelessly, not quite like himself.

His pulse picked up when he heard the sounds of a body sliding in between sheets, accompanied by a sigh of relief. A few moments more until the breathing in the room steadied and deepened. Geralt was asleep. Time to make his move.

He’d unlocked the window soon after he’d made it up, so all he had to do was push until he could slip in, weak moonlight lighting his way. Not that he needed much more than that, considering. He snuck closer to the bed, huge compared to his, and Geralt was sleeping without a shirt, pale skin shining, although that could just be romance mucking his eyes up again.

Eskel leaned over as far as he could, past the white spill of hair on the pillow, and the relaxed hand curled gently against the blanket, so he could finally look his fill. Geralt was still outrageously good looking, his newer, less human features adding some kind of otherworldly appeal to him. He didn’t like that Geralt was asleep, though. He traced a finger over a strong brow, leaned in even closer, shifting to kneel on the bed. 

And he kissed his friend awake.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You shouldn’t be here,” Geralt had twisted himself around, facing away from him again, and Eskel was angry, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next/last chapter, only a couple days late, oops

He did  _ not _ expect the bruising grip on his arms, or the bestial snarl, but he probably should have. He was still using his little trick, after all. When they had their medallions this trick would stop working- it’s how he’d been caught in the first place, and why he’d stopped using it. You only had to be nearly gutted by a twitchy Witcher once for that particular lesson to stick. Or just about stick.

Eskel pulled what was left of his magic back into himself, hissed, “Geralt, it’s  _ me, _ ” and ended up on the floor for his troubles.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Geralt had twisted himself around, facing  _ away _ from him  _ again, _ and Eskel was angry, now.

“Why the fuck not?” He was back on the bed, hands pulling and pushing until Geralt was laid beneath him, wide-eyed. “Is it the same reason you never talk to me? Or even  _ look _ at me? I thought we promised- us, together, no matter what. We would always come back to each other.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Geralt was  _ still _ trying to look away, damn him, and Eskel cradled his face in his hands, holding him still. “Stop it! Witchers don’t feel, they don’t care, not about anyone or even each other.”

“That’s horseshit and we both know it.” Eskel tried for another kiss, this one landing below one of Geralt’s eyes. “It’s because you look like this, isn’t it? You think I care about this? Gods, it’s like you just  _ left _ me, but you were still here; I just wasn’t allowed to look at you, or touch you, or  _ kiss _ you.”

The next kiss actually made it to the other’s lips, though Geralt kept them closed, and Eskel could feel fangs even larger than his own under the skin, and, whether anyone approved or not, he wanted to feel them on his body, in his neck. Geralt’s hands slipped to, oh,  _ gods, _ cover almost all of his back,  _ fuck, _ a moan cut off in his throat. 

Eskel assumed he could smell the arousal flaring up, and he did his best to focus on those feelings, letting the anger and sadness slip away, at least for now. Young Witchers were still young  _ men, _ after all, libidos high, and it had been so long for Eskel, for Geralt. He threw a leg over Geralt’s waist, straddling him properly, ripped his own shirt off and tossed it… somewhere, he didn’t care. 

When he kissed Geralt again, this time his mouth opened on a moan. Eskel licked into his friend’s mouth as far as he could, and it tasted a bit like victory but mostly like… blood? Deer blood. Whatever, he could ask about that later. Right now he was happily preoccupied by being almost crushed against Geralt’s chest and kissed within an inch of his life. 

He was running his hands over as much of Geralt’s skin as he could, greedy for contact after so long without, and he could have wept when he felt those monstrous teeth on his neck, pressing in just enough to sting. They were writhing around, biting and clawing at each other, Eskel relishing every stinging cut, proof that not even magic could keep them apart. 

When he wound up on his back, Geralt's hips tight around him, mouth hungry and wet, he felt tears pricking, happy and sobbing with it. They didn't have anything to slick, so just ground into each other, unforgiving and rough, but they were Witchers, weren't they? Rough treatment was what they knew best, but Eskel kept his hands as gentle as he knew how, made sure to tell Geralt how beautiful he still was. 

Orgasm was barely a relief, but it still knocked the wind out of his chest, left him gasping, Geralt looming and hunched, kissing Eskel through his own climax. There was the hot drip of tears on his face, and they weren't his, and he soothed them the way he always had, with kisses and soft hands, and the fact that they were both quietly weeping would go to their graves with them. 

Eskel knew he would have to figure out how to climb back down without breaking his neck before morning, unwilling to let this be the only time he saw his oldest, most beloved friend, but Geralt was curled around him, face in his hair, brokenly telling him about how much he had missed him, and it could wait. Morning was hours away, and he was needed here. 

Nothing would keep him from this ever again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys! Hang out with me on twitter @gotfanfiction

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter two will probably come tomorrow, bc I am very tired rn. Hang out w me on twitter @gotfanfiction


End file.
